


Boyd's Genius Plan To Ship His Dads

by Mr_Pinniped



Series: Robot Dads [3]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family Vacations, Found Family, Gay Gyro Gearloose, Gay Mark Beaks, Gen, LITERAL shipping, M/M, Matchmaking, Mild Sexual Content, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parenthood, Slow(ish) Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28450314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Pinniped/pseuds/Mr_Pinniped
Summary: "Boyd loved the Drakes, and he loved Gyro, but he also missed Mark.  And as far as Boyd knew, both the inventor and the programmer had been single for a while.  Father Edwin and Mother Angie loved each other and took care of each other.  It would be nice if Papa Gyro and Daddy Mark could love each other too. "
Relationships: B.O.Y.D. (Disney: DuckTales) & Gyro Gearloose, Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack, Indy Sabrewing/Ty Sabrewing, Mark Beaks & B.O.Y.D. (Disney: DuckTales), Mark Beaks/Gyro Gearloose, Mr. Drake/ Mrs. Drake
Series: Robot Dads [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083278
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Readers! This fic will be making occasional references to other events in the series, especially my other fic "Fake it Til You Make It", in which Mark and Gyro sort-of-date in college. I'll try to make sure the backstory is sufficiently explained so you can just jump in here, but do leave a comment if things get confusing.

“Mother Angie? The toilet tank is filled with maple syrup again.”

Angelina Drake set down her half-eaten piece of toast and sighed deeply as she regarded the cheerful face of her younger son, who had just delivered this disconcerting piece of news. “Your brother?”

“I did not see if he went to the bathroom during the night, but it does seem to be within his expected behaviors.”

“You didn’t try to flush it, did you?”

“Of course not. I have no need for the toilet.” This was true. Although Boyd was capable of consuming food, his caloric converter simply incinerated everything, and did not create solid or liquid waste. He had, however, taken to washing his hands and face in the bathroom sink every morning. He liked the feeling of cool water on his skin, and he liked having a morning routine that somewhat matched the rest of the Drake family. 

“Perhaps we can siphon it off and refill it- is Doofus still asleep, Boyd?” Edwin Drake said, draining down the remains of his coffee.

Boyd nodded. His adoptive brother always slept late on Saturdays. And often on weekdays, too, despite his parents’ insistence that he begin attending school more regularly. Boyd, on the other hand, was generally up early. Strictly speaking, he didn’t need to sleep, but his batteries always seemed to hold charge better if he powered down while he was plugged in, and doing so in a soft, warm, bed was extremely pleasant. 

“We might just want to call a plumber. He may have jerry-rigged it to do something unpleasant.” Mother Angie was saying

“I could also ask Papa Gyro if he has some sort of solvent?” Boyd suggested, hoping that would be helpful. His mother and father looked slightly startled.

“Right. It’s Saturday.” Father Edwin looked at his wife, then back to Boyd. “Would you be able to go over by yourself? We really need to deal with the plumbing before your brother wakes up.”

“Yes! I am fully fueled and can easily make the flight.” Papa Gyro’s house was not too far from the Drakes’, and Boyd had flown back and forth a few times before. Although he was the legal heir to half of the Drakes’ fortune, he technically didn’t have an official guardian. After all, he was technically not a nine-year-old boy, but a nearly twenty-year-old robot, and he’d lived on his own for many years. For the past few months, though, he had found that he very much enjoyed living like a real kid, with a real family. The Drakes had been delighted to welcome him. Well, Mother Angie and Father Edwin had been delighted. Doofus was still getting used to having a sibling. But even Doofus liked going to Woodchuck activities together.

As much as Boyd liked the Drakes, though, he had been even more thrilled to realize that his original creator, Gyro Gearloose, lived nearby. Boyd had been visiting Gyro’s apartment every Saturday for a while now, and always looked forward to it. The inventor had books, and games, and nifty gadgets that he was always working on. Boyd enjoyed school, but he always learned the most when he was with Papa Gyro.

Boyd attempted to send a text message as he rocketed over, but there was no response. It was still quite early. Perhaps Gyro he was still asleep? Boyd landed outside of the apartment building and punched in the door code on a little keypad, then headed up the flights of stairs to apartment number 502. From the hallway, he attempted to reach Gyro’s wifi, but the signal was weaker than usual. That was strange. He managed to connect just outside the door, and immediately realized why the bandwidth was occupied. In addition to Gyro’s computer and phone, there were an additional three phones, two tablets, a laptop, and a smartwatch connected to the network. All of these extra devices had some variation of “L33T_B34KS” in their names. 

This was perplexing. Boyd liked Mark Beaks, but why would he be in Papa Gyro’s apartment? Boyd’s password opened the electronic lock and he crept inside. The kitchen and living area was empty, as was Gyro’s study. Boyd turned on his infrared scanners and aimed them at the closed bedroom door. He could make out the heat signatures of two adult-sized bodies asleep on the bed. 

There was no one else here. The second person had to be Daddy Mark. This was exciting! It was odd, though, because Papa Gyro had never mentioned that he and Mark Beaks were friends. Well, they were probably more than just friends, if they were sleeping together. Boyd had near-constant Internet access, and was therefore perfectly aware of what usually happened when two adults shared a bed. 

Whatever the nature of their relationship, if Daddy Mark and Papa Gyro were spending time together, then maybe Boyd could see them both more often! Mark had been a great dad when he first found Boyd! They’d had a lot of fun together, and then… Boyd didn’t quite remember. He knew he’d glitched when he fell in the pool, and then the next thing he knew his systems were back online and the Drakes were his family. He loved the Drakes, and he loved Gyro, but he also missed Mark. And as far as Boyd knew, both the inventor and the programmer had been single for a while. Father Edwin and Mother Angie loved each other and took care of each other. It would be nice if Papa Gyro and Daddy Mark could love each other too. 

Boyd looked around. Organic beings were usually hungry when they woke up in the morning. Perhaps he could make himself useful by preparing breakfast. He’d only recently started cooking, but he’d found it to be one of his favorite activities. He quickly downloaded a pancake recipe, and busied himself in the kitchen.

He had finished the first griddle-ful when Gyro, looking incredibly flustered, rushed out the door. 

“Boyd! Sorry I didn’t come down to let you in. I forgot what day of the week it was! Did Edwin or Angelina drop you off?”

“No, my Mother and Father gave me permission to fly myself over today. And I know the security code on all your locks. I looked through your bedroom door with my infrared scanners and saw you were still asleep, so I thought I’d make myself useful before you woke up.” 

Boyd noticed the feathers around Gyro’s neck stand up at odd angles, and his heart rate rapidly increased. “Wait. You infrared scanned my bedroom?”

Boyd considered for a moment before responding. Perhaps Gyro would be less embarrassed if Boyd offered a more childlike conclusion. “Yes. That’s why I’m making pancakes. Pancakes are the best breakfast to have after a sleepover.”

“A… a sleepover. Right.”

Mark emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, appearing to be considerably less flustered than Gyro. Then again, he was generally better at hiding his emotions. But he didn't conceal his surprise or his joy at seeing Boyd. 

“Hey little dude!” Mark beamed as he bent down to lift Boyd into a quick hug, then held the android out at arms’ length and looked quizzically at him. “What are you doing here?” 

“I come over every Saturday,” Boyd informed him. “I’m ever so glad to find out that you and Dr. Gearloose are such good friends!”

Mark glanced over Boyd’s shoulder at Gyro.

“Yes,” Gyro said quickly, “That’s why I invited you over for a  _ sleepover _ .” 

Mark’s pupils contracted, just for a moment. “Riiiiight. We wanted to watch bad movies and have a sleepover. But…” His eyes darted around the room as he avoided Boyd’s earnest gaze. “But we were so tired that we fell asleep before we watched the movie.” He set Boyd back on the floor and zipped up his jacket. “I should probably get going, actually” he mumbled.

“But I made these pancakes just for you!” Boyd said, jetting over towards the stove and bringing a plate to Mark. He’d arranged blueberries in the batter so that they formed the shape of the Waddle logo. Mark looked over at Gyro again, who was standing stiffly in the corner, brewing a pot of coffee.

“Aww, that’s really sweet of you, kiddo. But I don’t know if I should--”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Boyd. Why don’t you sit down, Mark?” Gyro placed the carafe and three mugs on the table, and Boyd brought the pancake plates over. The two adults didn’t say much as they ate. 

“By the way, Boyd, I did buy the expansion pack for Super Benzino Battle Royale, if you’d like to play it today,” Gyro finally said to break the silence.

“That sounds fun! Can Mr. Beaks play too?”

Mark’s face remained passive, but Boyd sensed an increase of his heart rate. “I really should get back to work, buddy. Maybe later, ok? And Gyro, thanks for the breakfast, and for the… sleepover.” Mark drained his coffee and stood up. 

“I’ll clean up!” Boyd offered, grabbing the plates, forks, and drinking glasses off the table. They were both behaving very strangely. Boyd had his suspicions about why, but he couldn't be certain until he ran some biometric tests. A blood sample would be more accurate, but he couldn’t collect that without them noticing. Hopefully there would be enough saliva on the dishware to get a reading. He turned on the water in the sink, then ran his thumb across the tines of Mark’s fork and the rim of his drinking glass. He pressed his thumb to the biometric scanner embedded in the roof of his mouth, and began cleaning the plates while his system ran calculations. He then repeated the process with Gyro’s dishes. Gyro’s oxytocin levels were higher than Boyd had ever seen them. Additionally, both men showed elevated levels of dopamine, slightly above-baseline testosterone, and trace amounts of alcohol. 

So they had almost certainly copulated last night. As far as Boyd knew, people usually did that when they liked each other. So why did they both look so uncomfortable? 

Boyd continued to clean the dishes as Mark gathered his things and stammered something about maybe texting Gyro later, and Gyro mumbling an inaudible answer.

The door closed, and Gyro turned around, a bright and clearly false smile plastered on his face. “So how about that video game?”

It was all very odd.  Boyd would need to do some more behavioral research to understand it.

* * *

Gyro had had a rough week. It seemed that every circuit he built had been faulty, the interns kept making mistakes that could have easily be prevented if they just paid attention, and, once again, the Board was threatening to cut his funding. But all of that stress disappeared on Saturday morning as he saw his cheerful little android bounding up the stairs, swinging a large basket from one hand. 

Boyd held up the basket as he approached. “Good morning, Papa Gyro! I brought ingredients for baklava today!”

“You’ve really been interested in baking lately.” Gyro smiled down at him. Boyd was an  _ excellent _ chef. Gyro supposed it was because the android’s brain was able to follow recipes exactly, without getting distracted. 

“Well, I can’t always do it at home because Doofus sometimes comes in and messes it up. Last time I tried to bake a cake he put a bunch of live ants in the batter when I wasn’t looking. They added protein and an interesting texture, but the acidity really threw off the flavor. Do you like baking, Papa Gyro?”

“Yes, though I’ve never made baklava. Usually pies. Wait a second. Flavor?.” Gyro stopped and looked at the android. “You weren’t built with taste receptors.”

“No, I wasn’t!” said Boyd cheerily. “But my other daddy installed them for me!”

“Your other daddy... Edwin?” Gyro stopped walking and stared at Boyd. Edwin Drake was a lawyer, or at least he had been before Doofus was born. He couldn’t possibly have the understanding of hardware to install taste receptors in an already advanced AI system. 

“No, I didn’t say my other  _ father,  _ I said my other  _ daddy _ . You know. Mr. Beaks?”

A shadow crossed Gyro’s face. “He’s not your father.”

“I said that.” Boyd blinked up at Gyro. “Mr. Drake is my father, Mr. Beaks is my daddy, and you are my papa.”

“Mark Beaks is not your official guardian, nor did he play any part in your creation!”

“No, but he did save me from the junkyard, and fixed the rusty gears in my elbow, and upgraded my network connectors so they connect to modern Wi-fi and Bluetooth systems.” Here, Boyd opened his mouth and pointed to the little blue tooth fitted in his lower beak. “And then we went out and had a lot of fun! When’s he going to come over here again, anyway?”

Gyro foot froze mid-way up the step and he stumbled, reaching for the stair handrail to steady himself. He’d been afrai that this question was coming.

A few weeks before, Gyro had made a serious lapse in judgement when he’d run into Mark Beaks at a Trivia Night hosted by the Duckburg Museum of Natural History .  They’d been randomly placed on the same team, absolutely flattened the competition, and celebrated their win at the pub afterwards. The conversation had been a little too stimulating, the drinks a little too free-flowing, and Gyro had invited Mark back to his apartment.  It had been joyous and sensual and almost certainly a mistake. This wasn’t the first time Gyro had a romantic dalliance with Mark Beaks- they had almost-dated many years ago, back when they were both students at the University of Hamsterdam. It hadn’t ended well. Despite this, Gyro’s physical attraction towards Mark had never completely disappeared. He’d tried for years to ignore his feelings, telling himself it was just an inconvenience of brain chemistry, nothing more. 

But that night, he’d failed to suppress his desire, and in the heat of the moment, he’d forgotten that Boyd was due to visit the following morning. If the little android hadn’t been there, they could have both put the night behind them, and pretended it never happened.

Mark had texted Gyro, a few days later, asking if Gyro wanted to meet for dinner. Gyro had stared at it for days, unsure how to reply. Occasionally, he’d write out a few words’ response, sometimes positive, sometimes negative, always deleting before he hit ‘send’. Anyway, it had been almost a month. He couldn’t possibly reply  _ now. _

Besides, he didn’t  _ want  _ to date Mark Beaks. Yes, the Waddle CEO was intelligent, almost as intelligent as Gyro himself, but his petty, attention-seeking selfishness was not what Gyro wanted in a partner. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. And of course, Mark just  _ had  _ to be nice to Boyd. If he’d been a jerk, like he usually was, Boyd wouldn’t be asking to see him again. It must have been on purpose. 

“Papa?” Boyd was still staring at him, and Gyro realized he hadn’t answered. “I was just asking if, maybe, we could spend time with him again sometime?”

“You don’t really want to get close to someone like him.” Gyro said finally. “Besides, I thought you wanted to bake today! And then we can try to teach Lil Bulb how to play trombone!” 

“Oh yes! That sounds fun!” said Boyd. 

Despite Gyro’s continued attempts at distraction, Boyd asked about Mark Beaks several more times over the next month. Eventually, Gyro ran out of excuses. “Fine, sure, I’ll send him a message.” Gyro pulled out his phone and took a few steps towards his bedroom, leaving Boyd to his game of  _ Benzino Quest 3 _ .

He opened the texting app. The last communication from Mark was from the day after their Trivia Night win. Well, this was going to be uncomfortable no matter what. Might as well get it over with. 

“Hello, I know this is awkward.” He typed, then deleted.

He scrolled up a bit. The previous set of messages had been exchanged months before. It was when Mark first found 2-BO in the junkyard. He’d realized the tech was complex, and actually asked for Gyro’s advice, which almost never happened. Of course, he didn’t _listen_ to Gyro’s suggestions. Gyro had immediately told him to deactivate and dispose of the robot, but Mark insisted he could fix it. And for once, Mark had been right, Gyro thought, looking fondly at the child who was happily collecting digital stars on his sofa. 

Gyro sighed. He wasn’t doing this for Mark, or for himself. He was doing this for Boyd.

He took a deep breath before starting to tap out a message. “Hello Marcus, Boyd wants to see you again.” No, that was  _ too  _ direct. He deleted again.

“Hey Mark, I know it’s been a little while since we’ve talked, but Boyd’s been asking about you.” That  _ could  _ work, but it still didn’t feel quite right.

“Actually,” Gyro finally said out loud, “Would you like to message him yourself?”

“Ok!” said Boyd. “Tell me if this sounds good: 

‘Dear Mr. Beaks,   
How are you? I am fine. Gyro is fine too. We had a lot of fun eating breakfast with you a few weeks ago. Would you like to get together again sometime? Gyro and I like to go to the park on Saturdays now that the weather is getting warmer. Would you like to meet us there someday? Hope you are well!

Sincerely, Boyd.’”

* * *

Mark Beaks was still asleep when his phone buzzed. He never woke up before noon on Saturdays. He tried not to wake up before noon on weekdays, either, though he couldn’t always get his schedule to work like that. You would think that if the CEO wanted to work from noon to 8 instead of from 9 to 5 he could, but between trying to keep up his 'friendly and approachable boss' persona and the fact that Waddle had several offices in different time zones, he found himself spending a lot more time in the office than he did at home. Then again, there wasn’t much to  _ do  _ at home. He lived alone, and the Waddle campus had everything he could possibly want for recreation- video games, dance studios, yoga classes, fancy little cafes… no reason to come home, really. 

He still typically spent most weekends by himself, though. Well, physically alone anyway. In the digital world, a stimulating conversation was never far away. And online, he didn’t always have to be billionaire CEO Mark Beaks (though he still appreciated the love and adulation he got as himself). But when he wanted to be more anonymous, he could be. On the gaming forums, he was John Wells, a fan and streamer who only ever vaguely mentioned working in the tech industry. If he wanted to troll some politicians' pages, he’d be Joseph Porter. Reggie Bunthorne was for leaving snarky comments on recipe blogs (not that Mark ever actually cooked), and Jack Point wrote movie reviews laced with just enough profanity to keep things interesting. 

Right now, though, the notification on his phone showed a message to his personal email address. Not his business address, not any of his alts, but Mark Beaks’ personal email. Very few people had access to that. And the spam filters didn’t let anything unwelcome through- he was certain of that, he’d coded them himself. 

He grinned in spite of himself when he saw it was from Boyd. He would never admit it out loud, but he missed the kid. That weekend he’d spent with the robot boy had been one of the best of Mark’s life. Everyone else he hung out with always  _ wanted  _ something from him, usually either influence or money. Boyd just wanted to have fun. 

He skimmed through the message, his heart doing an awkward somersault when he got to Gyro’s name. This was going to make things interesting. There were all sorts of things Mark said and did that made people question whether he was ‘Real Adult’, and usually that just meant they were boring old fogies who hated fun. But there was one thing he truly wished he had been able to outgrow- the crush he had on his best friend from college. He’d messed up big time, back then. But hey, it wasn't like his feelings for Gyro consumed his life or anything! He was attracted to other people, sometimes! Falcon Graves, for example, was jaw-droppingly sexy. It was a damn shame the man just seemed to see Mark as a nuisance. 

He sighed, staring at the phone. Thirteen years of avoiding each other, and then one Trivia Night championship and he and Gyro had fallen into bed together. And Mark hadn’t even made the first move. It had felt so  _ right,  _ being together again. Then the morning had brought Boyd, unexpectedly clattering the dishes in the kitchen, and Gyro had dashed out of the room. Never even texted Mark back. 

Well. He didn’t need Gyro Gearloose in his life anyway. He was doing  _ fine.  _ He could date other people, if he wanted to. 

He couldn’t have another kid though. Not easily. 

He really wanted to see Boyd again. He  _ wanted  _ to see Gyro again, too, he just wasn’t sure if he  _ should _ . 

He crawled out of bed, dressed, and started his espresso maker. He took a while deciding what to order for lunch. And then, he started to compose his message. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frequent readers may notice some similarities in this chapter to another Mark/Gyro fic of mine called "A Sleepover". That is a fluffy, happy-ending one-shot. This is the alternate, more complicated slowburn version. They don't take place in the same timeline.


	2. Chapter 2

Gyro had never been particularly fond of the outdoors. It had been a bit of a sticking point when he was growing up. His father had been a member of Duckburg’s inaugural troop of Junior Woodchucks, and his sister had enthusiastically joined their ranks as well. Gyro had been a Junior Woodchuck for long enough to earn two merit badge (Drafting and Robotics), before he’d decided that he’d rather spend his after-school hours helping his Grandpappy Ratchett in the car-repair shop. Now that he was partially responsible for raising Boyd, however, he sometimes wished he’d gained just a little bit more scouting experience. 

“That purple flower is a  _ Lupinus duckbergensis.  _ It grows wild along streams, like this one here, but is also a popular choice in local gardens, as it particularly thrives in Calisota’s mild climate. The leaves are inedible, but the roots can be used as a headache cure in traditional medicine.” Boyd was saying, pointing to a plant beside the path they were walking on. Shorebridge Park was the largest park in Duckburg, with a network of bayside paths that led to a small enclosed lake, boathouse, skate-park, and a large sandy playground that was popular with the city’s youth. Boyd sometimes enjoyed playing with other kids on the playground, but he particularly liked walking the trails, identifying plants and insects as he displayed his knowledge from his newly-earned Botany and Entomology merit badges. 

“Oh! And there’s some honeybees hovering over the lupine.  _ Apis mellifera. _ They’re important pollinators, and a crucial part of the ecosystem.” Boyd paused, and looked up at Gyro.

“Would it hurt if a bee stung me, Papa?” 

Gyro paused, and tilted his head. He wasn’t entirely certain. “I don’t think so. You might feel a slight pinch in your skin’s pressure sensors, but you shouldn’t be responsive to the chemicals in their venom. Unless  _ someone else _ installed sensory chemoreceptors?”

“Not in my skin! Just for smell and taste!” Boyd said cheerily, seemingly oblivious to Gyro’s disgruntled tone. He didn’t appreciate that Mark Beaks had tampered with his work. Not that there was anything  _ technically  _ wrong with Mark’s additions. It wasn’t like Boyd was full of Waddle adware, or anything like that. It was just the principle of the thing. 

Boyd led the way along the path of the shaded woods, and into the sunnier marshland on the bay shore. The playground was just visible in the distance now. As the creekside trail intersected with the main paved path, they could see a figure just ahead of them near the edge of the playground. He was perched on an electric hoverboard and taking a selfie with the bay view in the background.

“Daddy Mark!” Boyd chirped happily, activating his rocket boosters and zooming ahead to meet him. 

“Hey there kiddo!” Mark actually put his phone back into his pocket and stepped off his hoverboard before Boyd nearly collided with him. 

Though Boyd’s rockets stopped his flight, he continued to speak at top speed. “Is it all right that I still call you Daddy? I know you aren’t  _ really _ , so I can call you Mr. Beaks if you’d prefer. I asked Papa Gyro if he wanted me to call him that or Dr. Gearloose and he said he didn’t care but I like calling him Papa. So I also want to call you want you’d like.”

A soft grin appeared on Mark’s face. “I’d be honored to still be your dad.” And then Boyd drifted closer and hugged him. 

Gyro stopped several feet away from them. This whole interaction seemed wildly out-of-character for Mark. First of all, he was pretty sure Mark was  _ never  _ polite enough to say he was honored by anything; secondly, Mark had actually put his phone away for almost 2 minutes now; and third, hugging?

“You don’t like anyone touching you. You’ve made that clear plenty of times before.” Gyro looked skeptically at Mark, who shrugged.

“Well yeah, but Boyd’s different. He’s not a real kid.”

Gyro’s face went red and Boyd let out a soft gasp. 

“Oh no, that sounded bad! I didn’t mean you’re not… I just meant… You’re not biological, so you’re not all germy.” Mark carefully set Boyd back on the ground.

“Oh yes!” Boyd’s face brightened. “My big brother has all sorts of germs on his hands, all the time! It’s quite fascinating. I could scan you for germs too, if you’d like…”

“I’d rather you didn’t. What I don’t know can’t hurt me, right?”

“That… is literally the opposite of how germs work.” Gyro raised an eyebrow at Mark, who ignored him.

“Why don’t you go play with the other kids for a bit, Boyd? And then we can go get some ice cream later?”

“Ok! See you in a bit!” Boyd ran off to the playground, joining a little girl with curly hair, who seemed to be consulting some blueprints for a sand castle. 

Mark led Gyro to sit down on a bench. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, now he’s out of earshot.”

Gyro’s breath caught in his throat, and he felt the feathers on his neck stand up. Mark couldn’t be bold enough to try to talk about… their little _ indiscretion,  _ out here, in public, could he? Obviously Mark had no qualms about broadcasting his personal life to the world, but this wasn’t the internet! This was reality! They couldn’t just acknowledge that sort of thing in the middle of a park full of kids!

Mark’s hand was plunged into his hoodie pocket, but moving quickly, and Gyro caught a flash of color between the parrots fingers. So he still fidgeted with that old Rubik’s cube when he was nervous. “Why does Boyd look like me?” he finally asked. 

“What? He doesn’t look like you!” Gyro felt his body relax a little. Nothing to do with their earlier dalliance, then.

“Um, he  _ totally  _ does. Look at this.” Mark held his phone in Gyro’s face. The screen was displaying a school portrait of a young boy in a plaid vest and a neat buttoned shirt.

“That’s me when I was nine years old. And that,” Mark’s thumb swiped across the screen, “Is Boyd.” Gyro had to admit, they were virtually identical.

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

“You built him!” 

“I didn’t design the outer chassis, though! I was told ‘make a gray parrot’ so I made a gray parrot! It was before we even met.”

“Before we met?” Mark paused for a moment, putting a hand on his chin. “So it was him, wasn’t it? Boyd, or 2-BO, was the device you had worked on back in Tokyolk?” 

Gyro felt his muscles stiffen and his heartrate quicken. Even now, nearly two decades later, thinking about the disaster in Tokyolk could occasionally trigger his anxiety. He nodded without speaking. 

“Of course! I mean, the soldering style was a dead giveaway that you’d made him originally, but he’s not just  _ any  _ old project of yours- he was the one that--”

“That got me in all that trouble, yeah.” Gyro’s voice cracked a bit as he spoke, and he clenched his hands on the side of the bench. 

“So that’s why he goes all destructo-laser when he gets a little wet. ”

Gyro glared at Mark defensively. “Not anymore! I fixed that a couple weeks ago. Just had to re-do the rubber seals around his paneling. He still shouldn’t be submerged more than 30 feet underwater, but he is splash-resistant now.”

“Huh. In hindsight, I probably should have checked the seals before I took him to a pool party.” Mark pulled the cube out of his pocket now and idly twirled it. “Course, it was the green McDuck kid’s questioning that really glitched him out. And then I got dropped into a basement full of beehives. Didn’t even see what happened to him, after that, though I heard some of it.”

Gyro nodded. He had fortunately never angered Doofus Drake enough to see the inside of the infamous Honey Bin. 

“Anyway, once I was down there I realized I’d dropped my phone up by the pool, and then my backup phone got all full of honey, so I couldn’t access his controls. And then Glomgold comes charging out of this underground tunnel, still yelling at his puppet and surrounded by bees. So we eventually get out of there, but I can’t get back into the house, and by then Boyd’s programming had been totally altered anyway. How’d he end up with you, after all that?”

Gyro hesitated. 

“If you’re ok talking about it, that is. I know sometimes you get--”

“No. I should.” A lot of what happened on their recent trip to Tokyolk wasn’t really Gyro’s story. It was Boyd’s.  And if Mark was serious about taking a parenting role in Boyd’s life, he needed to know. “One of Mr. McDuck’s nephews showed up in my office one day, and… it’s a bit of a long story.” he warned. 

Mark leaned back on the bench and put both his phone and his cube down, looking directly at Gyro. “Kiddos look happily occupied. So I think we’ve got time”

* * *

“So that’s Doctor Gearloose?” Violet Sabrewing asked, looking over at the bench where Papa Gyro and Daddy Mark were sitting. “Your original creator?”

“Yes!” chirped Boyd, carefully trimming some twigs down to size to create support scaffolds for their sand-castle. “And then I was powered down for a long time, and then Mark Beaks adopted me for a few days, and then my other parents adopted me after that.”

Violet nodded. She’d known Doofus Drake for a long time- they’d both been Woodchucks since they were four years old. He’d been nice, when they were little, and extremely dedicated to the Woodchuck program. Then he got all weird after his grandmother died. Violet knew she should probably feel sorry for him, but he was just so unsettling. The two of them had started talking more when, within a few weeks of each other, both Violet and Doofus had gained an adopted sibling. Doofus vocally complained about Boyd, but Violet thought she could see a glimmer of his old self from time to time as the little android followed his brother around the Woodchuck Lodge. 

“So you spend some time with each set of parents, then?” she asked Boyd.

“I’m still attempting to optimize the situation. And I’m not sure if I can call Papa Gyro and Daddy Mark a ‘set’." Boyd's gears whirred for a moment. "May I ask you a question about your family, Violet?”

“You may, Beonlyyourselfdude.” She always called Boyd by his full name, but spoke quickly, running all the words into one. No one else ever called him that, but Violet seemed to like it. 

“Do you know why your dads got married?”

“As I understand, they had been romantically involved for several years, and then determined marriage was the appropriate next step.” Violet stated.

“Of course, that is often how it’s done. But how did they meet? And why did they start dating?”

“Oh. They told me that they met during college. My father Tyrian worked at the campus coffee shop and my father Indigo was usually his first customer of the day. But all that happened before I was born. I did not actually observe their courtship.” She began piling sand in and around the scaffolding of their castle. 

“Hmm…” Boyd looked over at the bench, where Mark and Gyro were still talking. Their body language seemed calm and relaxed, but they were still sitting on extreme opposite ends of the bench.

Violet followed his gaze. “You seem to be having some difficulty understanding the nature of the relationship between them?”

“Yes! I thought maybe they liked each other at first, but it’s hard to get them to talk. And Papa Gyro always seems to get embarrassed and flustered when I mention Daddy Mark.” 

“Do you know how long they have known each other? Perhaps there’s something embarrassing in their past that Dr. Gearloose doesn’t want to talk about.”

Boyd tilted his head. This somehow hadn’t occurred to him, but Violet’s hypothesis was very consistent with Papa Gyro’s behavior. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I don’t think Dr. Gearloose knew Mr. Beaks when I was made, but then I was powered down for almost twenty years. Any number of things could have happened during that time. I don’t know if he’d tell me if I asked him, though.”

“Dr. Gearloose has worked for Mr. McDuck for a long time,” Violet mused. “Perhaps Webbigail knows more about him. Or someone else in Hubert’s family.”

“Good idea! I’ll ask them the next time Huey invites me over.” He moved to the edge of the sandbox and started to gather flowers and leaves to decorate their castle. 

They had just started digging a moat around the castle when Boyd’s eyes flashed with a bluish light and his speakers emitted a cheery ‘ping’ sound.

Violet looked at him, startled. “What was that?” 

“Daddy Mark just texted me,” Boyd explained, projecting a message that was just several ice cream emojis onto his eyes so that violet could see them. Boyd pinged again, and the words ‘bring your friend if you want’ appeared on his eyes, before he blinked, once again displaying his customary child-like irises and pupils. 

“Excellent. I do enjoy frozen confections.” 

* * *

Gyro told Mark more about his time in Tokyolk in the past thirty minutes than he had during two whole years at the University of Hamsterdam together. Gyro used to get panicky when asked about the subject. But now, he was able to relay the whole story, animatedly but calmly, occasionally casting a fond glance to the child now digging a moat around the castle. 

“Thanks for telling me all that, Gyro.” Mark felt a powerful urge to scoot closer to him on the bench, but didn’t dare to do so. “I know Tokyolk is hard for you to talk about.”

“Yeah.” Gyro kicked at a pebble on the ground. “But you already knew half of it. And if you’re serious about being in Boyd’s life, you need to understand the rest.” 

“You definitely deserve an ice cream after that.” Mark grinned and texted Boyd to come back over. The android quickly returned to them, followed by the little girl he’d been playing with.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Gearloose. Good afternoon, Mr. Beaks. My name is Violet Sabrewing, and I am a friend of Boyd’s.” The little girl’s tone was precise and polite, but stiff. The way she spoke reminded Mark of how he himself had learned to greet people. Forced and scripted, picked up and memorized over several years, while he wondered how everyone else seemed to just do it intuitively.

“Have you met my fathers before? They’re just over there.” Violet pointed towards a row of bushes, where two men were kneeling in the mulch. One was holding something small in his hand, and the other seemed to be photographing it. As Mark watched, the slimmer of the two men shook whatever was in his hand back onto the ground and stood up, dusting some stray bits of dirt off his knees as he walked over to them. He was wearing a teal button-up shirt under an argyle sweater-vest, and gray trousers. 

“Thanks for waiting, Vi. I’ve never seen a Silver Spruce Beetle in the wild before! They generally only come out when it’s raining. Perhaps the sprinkler system persuaded it ” His eyes practically glowed with excitement as he showed the photo on his phone to his daughter.

“Is this a friend of yours, Violet?” the other man gestured at Boyd. He was a tall and muscular fellow who was wearing jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and a jacket with the Waddle logo on the breast. 

But before Violet could answer, Mark stood up. “Heeeyyyy, nice swag! You a Waddler?” Ty’s eyes widened as he realized who he was talking to.

“Mr. Beaks?” he asked, looking almost star-struck. Mark grinned. A CEO’s salary was nice, but that look of respect and admiration people gave him? That’s what he  _ really  _ worked for. 

“Pew! Pew!” said Mark, making finger-guns at Ty and winking. 

“Tyrian Sabrewing. Or Ty, if you prefer I’m a Project Manager in the Hardware division. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, sir.” Ty extended a hand for Mark to shake, but Mark rolled back a few inches, pulling his phone from his pocket as he did so. A ghostly, glowing hand projected from the screen and offered a fist-bump instead. Ty smoothly pulled out his own phone and summoned an identical hand.

“Oooo, you’ve got the 3DT test model! Classic!” Mark peered at the device in Ty’s hand. 

“So this must be your son?” Ty looked down at Boyd again.

Mark shot a nervous glance at Gyro.  _ Could _ he claim Boyd was his son? Boyd  _ had _ called him Daddy earlier, but... 

Violet spoke up before Mark decided how to respond. “Mr. Beaks is only one of his several guardians. This is my friend from the Junior Woodchucks, Beonlyyourselfdude Drake. Doofus’ brother. He is a highly sophisticated android, and this is his creator, Dr. Gyro Gearloose.” Gyro gave a curt nod. 

“And these are my fathers, Tyrian and Indigo Sabrewing.” Violet finished. Mark felt quite certain she was following a social script now. That precision in her introductions was all too familiar. He’d spoken like that, as a child. Of course, her fathers just smiled indulgently at her, without a hint of criticism. 

“Call me Indy,” the shorter man in the sweater-vest said, reaching out a hand. Mark leaned away instinctively, but Gyro reached out and shook hands. He must not be so weirded out by germs. Then again, he probably touched all sorts of weird materials in his lab. Mark shuddered involuntarily. This is why he preferred software over hardware. No weird textures to deal with. 

“Anyway, I was about to take this kiddo across the street to Robin’s for some ice cream! You all want to come? My treat.”

The Saberwing family was all too eager, and the six of them had a pleasant time tasting samples and building sundaes. Mark snapped a couple pictures of himself and the kids, though Gyro always leaned out of shot when the camera came out. Still, the chicken seemed more relaxed than Mark usually saw him. Yeah, of course they'd both matured since college. But really, it seemed that being a parent had really been good for him. If anyone could crack through Gyro’s iciness, it would be Boyd. 

“We should head back,” Ty stood up and collected the dishes, spoons, and sticky napkins that the party had scattered across the table. “Our older daughter opted to stay home this morning, but we should go check on her. Make sure she hasn’t cast any dark rituals.” he winked, and Indy chuckled. Violet nodded and helped her father take the dishes to the collection tray, and the napkins to the garbage can. 

“Before we go, though,” Indy followed Mark and Gyro out the double glass doors and into the street, “You two know Dorothy’s Cafe? Down on Mallard Street?”

Gyro and Mark both nodded. Dorothy’s Cafe was a friendly, welcoming, coffee shop, located just behind Toto’s, Duckburg’s oldest gay nightclub and karaoke bar. Dorothy’s had been built just a few years prior to serve as the more sedate, family-friendly hub for the LGBT community, offering a bright, airy dining room with rainbow-colored tables and soft, plush armchairs.

“Well, I’ve been running a Parenting with Pride meetup group there for the past couple years. Second and fourth Tuesdays. The kids get a separate table, and we all just hang out, get some food, have a chat. You two could come by, if you’re--”

The back of Gyro’s neck was starting to turn red. “Oh. We’re not exactly-”

“Don’t worry,” said Indy, “We welcome all sorts of arrangements. Adopted kids, surrogacy, blended families, poly parents- it’s mostly just a social group, but there’s support if you need it.” 

“Thanks, we might drop by sometime. Nice meeting you both!” Mark flashed Indy a winning smile, then wrapped an arm around Gyro’s waist, gracefully steering the other man back towards Boyd, who had gotten somewhat ahead of them and was waiting at the next intersection. 

“We… we might?” Gyro stammered, allowing himself to be pulled along.

“Probably not.” Mark smirked. “But I had to  _ say  _ we might. A non-committal response like that is what people think is polite. Smile, nod, move along. Ta-da!” 

Gyro raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That seems dishonest and inefficient.”

“Maybe. But people like polite lies.” Mark shrugged. 

“I don’t. I much prefer brutal honesty.”

“And how many times have you been kicked out of a board meeting or denied a promotion because of it?” Gyro’s face flushed red, and Mark chuckled. “Look, Gyro. There are things people think are polite, and things people think are rude. And no, they don’t always make sense. But if you memorize the script, you get along. It’s how I managed to become head of a billion-dollar company.”

Gyro jerked himself away, leaving the arm that Mark had wrapped around his waist hovering awkwardly in midair for a moment before Mark slowly let it down by his side. “We both know that’s not the only reason.” 

There was a bitterness in Gyro’s tone that struck Mark like ice between his ribs. He knew exactly what Gyro was talking about. He had hoped the other man would forgive him eventually. But evidently, he hadn’t. So there was no point apologizing now. 

They stared at each other for a few moments, until Boyd stepped up beside them and cleared his throat. Gyro turned slowly to the android. “We should probably get home soon, Boyd.”

“Ok! Will you come meet with us again sometime, Daddy Mark?” 

Mark knelt down and offered a hi-five to Boyd. “I’d love to see you again sometime, buddy. If it’s ok with--” he looked up.

“It’s not entirely up to me.” Gyro interrupted. “Edwin and Angelina Drake are also legally his guardians. If you want to work out an arrangement, talk to them, not me. Here’s their contact information.” Gyro tapped on his phone for a moment, then Mark’s own phone buzzed as the data transferred. 

“Great! I’ll see you around, kiddo!” Mark hopped onto his hoverboard and rolled a few feet down the sidewalk.

“Oh, Mark?” Gyro spoke suddenly, tentatively, and Mark spun the hoverboard around, rolling back towards them. 

“Yeah, G?”

Gyro inhaled, then looked down at the ground. He seemed to be second-guessing whatever he he had been about to say.  “Thanks for the icecream.” he finally said, before turning on his heel, taking Boyd by the hand, and disappearing down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Updates will come periodically!


	3. Chapter 3

“GG! So glad you could make it!” Launchpad waved cheerily and Gyro chucked a bit at the old nickname as he shook the raindrops off his hat, making his way to a corner booth at a bright little diner, the type with shiny chrome tables and a checkered tile floor and vintage posters plastering every inch of wall. Launchpad was seated in the corner, facing the door and grinning as Gyro approached. There was another duck seated next to him, one who looked vaguely familiar to Gyro, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen the man before. On the opposite bench were Della and Fenton, who scooted over to make space for Gyro- Launchpad’s bulk would have made it difficult to fit another person on his side of the table. 

The stranger reached over and offered Gyro his hand. “Drake Mallard. We met briefly a couple months ago, but things were a little chaotic with the aliens and all that, so...” Ah. Now Gyro remembered.

“Right. Didn’t recognize you without the costume.” Gyro returned the handshake. Drake had been dressed as Darkwing Duck last time Gyro met him. That must be why Launchpad had invited him to brunch- he was bound to be friends with another Darkwing superfan.

“Hey, Gearloser. Long time no brunch.” Della reached across Fenton to fist-bump him. 

“Some pilot.” Gyro returned their standard greeting as he grabbed the coffee carafe and filled his mug, adding one packet of sugar and stirring a few times before taking a sip. The coffee at this place always tasted slightly burnt, but caffeine was caffeine. “You know perfectly well why I’ve been busy on weekends. I suppose your kids are off on some adventure?”

“Nah, they’re just at Funzo’s with Donnie today. I’ll probably head over there after this so I can beat him at air-hockey. Where’s your robo-son?” 

Launchpad furrowed his brow, thinking. “Yeah! I didn’t think there were any Woodchuck events this weekend? Unless I forgot something for the Junior-Juniors...” 

“No. Not Woodchucks, unfortunately.” It was a reasonable supposition. The last time Gyro had been able to come to one of Launchpad’s standing weekend brunches was during a Woodchuck campout. But not today. “He’s with Mark Beaks.” 

Fenton’s fork fell to the floor with a clatter and he slipped down to retrieve it. “Why?” he gasped as he remerged. 

“Because…” Gyro grimaced. “Look, it’s complicated. You know how Beaks found Boyd at the junkyard before Huey brought him into our lab?”

Fenton nodded.

“Well, Boyd somehow got it into his head that Mark’s his dad.” Gyro contemplated his coffee for a moment. “Not his  _ only  _ dad, myself and Edwin Drake also bear that honor, but… so does Mark. For no good reason, really.” 

Fenton stared at him, nervously turning his orange juice glass around between his hands. “Forgive me for stating the obvious, but, don’t you think Beaks could have… hacked his code or something?”

Gyro slammed his coffee mug back onto the table. “That’s what I thought, at first! But I’ve looked through the programming dozens, if not hundreds, of times! The social machine learning algorithms are exactly as I left them! I can’t find anything Mark could have done, other than a few necessary hardware upgrades!”

“Couldn’t you just…” Drake mimed typing, “And change it yourself then?”

Gyro glared at him. Of course an actor-turned-superhero wouldn’t understand the delicacy of AI ethics. He started to explain why he couldn’t tamper with Boyd’s algorithms, but was interrupted by the waitress stopping at their table and asking what Gyro wanted. He quickly ordered a BLT, then continued. 

“As far as I can tell, he has free will now, as much as a regular child. So we’ve rearranged the schedule in accordance with his wishes. He’s still at the Drake’s manor during the workweek, and I get him most weekends. But two Sundays a month are Mark’s.” 

“Well, it can’t hurt to have a break sometimes, right?” Drake asked. Gyro noticed he was wearing a WaddleWatch. Of course, lots of people had them. It didn’t necessarily mean Drake was a Beaks fanboy as well as a Darkwing one. But the sight of his rival’s tech on this man’s wrist only seemed to mock him, especially as the watch started to chirp an obnoxiously cheerful tune and Drake turned away to answer whoever had texted him. 

“But why is Beaks interested in Boyd?” Fenton asked. “I doubt it’s out of some long-hidden paternal affection.”

“I have several working hypotheses.” Gyro said, “One- he just thinks Boyd is a shiny toy to play with. Two- He’s trying to study him, make copies, and sell the lot. Three (and this is not at all mutually exclusive with any of the others), cute family photos get him more attention online. And four- which I think is the most likely- he’s just doing this to irritate me.”

“Why’s that your main theory?” Launchpad asked.

“Because he keeps buying Boyd gifts! Nice clothes, a new bicycle, a Waddle-Bake-Oven… all stuff I couldn’t afford, and Mark knows it! What can I give Boyd? My old calculus textbook?”

“If it’s any comfort, I heard from Manny that Boyd was _thrilled_ to get that calculus textbook.” said Fenton.

Gyro gave a derisive snort and Della reached across Fenton again to squeeze Gyro’s knee. He slapped her hand away with mock indignation, but her voice was uncharacteristically sympathetic.

“Hey. Gearhead. I know it’s hard to entrust the raising of your kid to someone else. But--”

Gyro interrupted her. “Your situation is different and you know it! Your kids were raised by your family- your twin! How would you feel if you suddenly had to co-parent a child with your ex?”

Launchpad thought for a moment. “Well. It depends on which ex, really.”

“Well, yes, it would, for you.” Gyro rolled his eyes. Launchpad dated  _ everyone _ . Gyro himself had gone out with him once or twice. In fact, he was pretty sure everyone at this table had done so, except maybe Drake. And given the way Launchpad had been looking at him all morning, that was only a matter of time. The actor was handsome, though Gyro wasn’t sure if he was Launchpad’s usual type. Then again, Launchpad’s past partners had been so diverse Gyro wasn’t really sure the pilot  _ had  _ a usual type.

“Wait.” said Fenton. “Can we back up a second?” He turned to Gyro, an accusatory look on his face. “Your ex? You dated Mark Beaks?”

“Eh. It wasn’t that serious. Just a college fling.” Gyro shrugged. He was not being entirely honest, but Fenton didn’t need to know that. 

“Why have you never told me about this?”

Gyro glared at his lab assistant. “It’s none of your business who I dated over a decade ago. Anyway, if you want to hear interesting past relationship stories, ask him.” Gyro nodded at Launchpad. “He’s got far more than I do.”

“Oooo, yes do tell! You two were roommates a while back, yeah?” Drake looked up from his watch and turned to Launchpad, grinning. Launchpad reached up to smooth his hair. Again. He’d done that six times in the past four minutes. Gyro had seen this dozens of times before. The pilot was clearly smitten. 

Della clearly noticed Launchpad’s nerves as well. With her typical boldness, she chose to bulldoze straight over them, placing her elbows on the table and leaning over towards Drake. “Would you like to know about the mermaid, the wereduck, or the mafia heiress?” she smirked. 

Gyro sat back and ate his sandwich. He felt slightly guilty, allowing Della to embarrass Launchpad in front of his new crush, but truthfully, he was glad for the change of subject.

* * *

The next Friday, Boyd tucked some extra supplies into his school bag, as usual. But this weekend, he wasn’t going to Papa Gyro’s or Daddy Mark’s house. He had been invited to a sleepover at McDuck manor! He’d not been to one before, though from Huey’s stories, they were often quite exciting. Violet was going as well, and had offered him a ride after school. 

So, at the end of the day, he waved farewell to Doofus across the schoolyard, and followed Violet to her fathers’ car- an old but well-kept light blue minivan. Lena was already in the passenger’s seat, so Boyd and Violet clambered into the back. 

“All buckled in?” Indigo asked as he started the engine.

Violet and Boyd both nodded. Boyd, being mostly made of metal, didn’t actually need the seatbelt, but he had found that he enjoyed the sensation of wearing one. It felt like the car was giving him a hug. He slipped a hand through the top of the shoulder strap and gave it a gentle squeeze back. Mr. Indigo’s car was an older stick-shift, without a lot of computers or sensors. It probably didn’t notice Boyd’s presence, but he wanted to be nice to it anyway. 

He listened to the hum of the engine. It was clear that Mr. Sabrewing took good care of this car. Usually Boyd could hear if a car had any rusty or gummed-up parts, but this ride was smoother than most. The brakes would need replacing in about a year, he noticed- he could hear just a hint of a whine, likely inaudible to the organic occupants of the vehicle, as they slowed to a stop in front of McDuck Manor. 

Webby came bounding down the steps and hugged all three of them- Violet first, then Boyd, and finally Lena. The triplets followed her more slowly down the stairs. Huey also hugged Boyd, while Dewey offered a fist-bump. Louie had his hood up, a signal to all he didn’t feel like being touched right now, but he did lead the way into the kitchen so that the group of them could collect snacks and drinks before heading up to Webby’s room to start the festivities. 

“Is that a new jacket, Boyd? It looks really comfortable!” Dewey indicated the garment Boyd was currently wearing. It was made of a soft, fleecy material and dyed a light, sky-blue color. There was a tiny Waddle crest embroidered on the shoulder.

“Oh yes. My Daddy Mark Beaks gave it to me last week.”

“Wait.” Louie turned and raised an eyebrow. “How’d you end up back with him? I thought you were all set up with the Drakes.”

“I still am!” Boyd informed him. He had seen Huey at regularly at Woodchuck meetings, but hadn’t spoken to the other brothers since they’d returned from Tokyolk. He quickly updated them on the new arrangement that allowed Boyd to spend his time with all of the people he considered his parents.

“I’m surprised Doctor Gearloose is letting you go over to spend time with Mark Beaks,” said Huey. “They seem to really dislike each other.”

“I’m not sure,” Boyd began, then paused. He shouldn’t tell the other kids about the time he had found Mark in Gyro’s bed. That was almost certainly something the two men would prefer to keep private. “They behave very oddly around each other. I suspect that their discordance is due to more than just purely professional or academic differences.”

“Oh sure,” said Dewey. “They’re feuding online all the time. There’s a number of accounts that seem to just exist to troll Gyro’s socials. Most are widely speculated to be Mark Beaks’ alts.”

“I don’t just mean online trolling either.” said Boyd.

“Then, what do you mean?” asked Webby.

“Beonlyyourselfdude has hypothesized that the two of them have some longstanding quarrel of a personal and possibly intimate nature.” Violet said. 

“Intimate? Like they used to date? Weird.” said Louie.

Huey flipped the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook to the page listing the demographic statistics of Duckburg. “Given the number of single gay men in this city, if you assume that each one goes on an average of 3.7 dates per year, and account for their age brackets, there’s about--” he looked at Boyd, who ran the calculations. 

“Nine point eight percent.”

“Ok, so almost a 10% chance they have gone out at some point, assuming both have lived in Duckburg for at least a decade.” 

Dewey scoffed. “I can’t really imagine Doctor Gearloose dating 3.7 people every year, though.”

“Of course. Individual dating habits would alter the odds considerably. But if they did date in the past, it could explain their current animosity.” Violet looked over Huey’s shoulder at the demographic statistics, biting her lower beak in thought. 

“Hmm… it might be possible.” Webby mused, starting to dig through her filing cabinet. “But there’s plenty of other reasons for them to dislike each other.” 

“True. Uncle Donald and Uncle Scrooge didn’t talk for like, ten years!” said Dewey. “Though when we started adventuring together again, that helped them get along.”

“I don’t think Dr. Gearloose or Mr. Beaks would enjoy the sort of treasure hunting that your Uncle Scrooge does.” Boyd quickly edited and projected an image of Mark and Gyro dressed in safari suits onto the wall, and the other kids laughed. 

Webby returned to the table, carrying a manila folder labelled “Gearloose, Gyro”. “I have basic files on all of the long-term employees of Uncle Scrooge,” she explained in response to Violet’s quizzical look. She poked through another drawer, labelled ‘Antagonists’ and pulled out a much thinner folder, containing only one page of Webby’s handwritten notes. “I don’t have much on Mark Beaks, though.”

“That’s ok, he posts literally everything about himself online,” said Dewey, flipping his laptop open and opening one tab in Webstagram and the other in Quackchat.

Webby opened the thicker folder and pulled out an old copy of Gyro’s resume, his employment paperwork, and a few odd photographs. Huey, Boyd, and Violet peered over her shoulder.

“Ok, here’s the basics. Gyro Gearloose is thirty-seven years old. He was born in Steamboat Junction, and lived there until he started at the University of Tokyolk at age 17…”

“Two years, seven months, and fourteen days before my first activation date.” Boyd nodded, looking at Gyro’s academic record. “That’s correct.” 

“Looks like he got his Bachelor’s of Science shortly after your activation. Then he re-enrolled at Tokyolk as a PhD student, but transferred to the university of Hamsterdam midway through the program.”

“Yes. That was after Dr. Akita altered my programming to--” Boyd stopped, as his cooling fans began to whir wildly. His eyes started flashing bright red. “ERROR 307H!” he felt himself shouting automatically. Several of his systems seemed to have gone offline. His legs were still under conscious control, though. He bolted towards the open window and thrust his head outside. Two laser pulses shot out of his eyes, and his mind immediately cleared. One laser dissipated harmlessly into the air. The other hit the ground three stories below, striking just inches from the tree under which the triplet’s uncle Donald was napping. The duck jumped up on impact, automatically raising his fists, prepared to fight whoever had disturbed his rest.. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Duck, sir!” Boyd called down. His voice was back. That was good. 

Donald looked around, fists still at the ready, trying to determine where the voice had come from. He finally looked up. “Oh, it’s you. Everyone ok up there?” 

Boyd nodded and ran a systems check. Everything seemed to be back online now. And he’d had enough control of himself not to hurt anyone.. Though it was worrisome he’d glitched like that at all. 

Huey put a gentle hand on Boyd’s shoulder. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah. It was just a little glitch. There must be something in my memory banks from that time that is still corrupted.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead. His cooling fan shut off, and he walked back over to the table where Webby had spread out Gyro’s files. “So what happened in Hamsterdam?” 

“He graduated with his PhD, which mostly focused on theoretical work. Then he started working for Uncle Scrooge--”

“About two years before we were born.” Huey pointed to the date.

“That makes sense,” said Louie. “Mom definitely knew him before she went to space.”

Dewey looked up from his laptop. “Mark Beaks went to University of Hamsterdam too. Transferred in from St. Canard Community College.”

“They started in Hamsterdam the same year,” Huey looked from Dewey’s screen to Webby’s files. “So it’s possible they met there.”

“University of Hamsterdam is a large school. Both of them attending doesn’t prove anything more than the fact that they both live in Duckburg now.” Violet said.

“Doesn’t Dr. Gearloose enjoy playing chess? It says here Mark Beaks was Calisota state champion one year.” Dewey looked up.

“He does,” said Boyd, “But I don’t know if all of this information is necessary to help them like each other now.”

“So let’s approach this logically.” Huey flipped through the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook, “What do the two of them have in common? Could they become friends? Could they become a couple, even?”

Louie groaned and rolled his eyes at his brother. “Please don’t turn this into a shipping session.”

“Shipping?” Boyd tilted his head at Louie. “I have no desire to transport them on a boat.”

“No, it’s short for ‘relationship.’ It’s what you say when you think two people should be a couple.”

“Oh!” Boyd’s eyes flashed briefly as he looked it up. “Yes, I see the second, colloquial definition now.” He was silent for a moment as he stored this information to his memory banks. 

“You know,” Violet mused, “Putting them on a literal ship might actually work.”

“Wait! Like a cruise ship?” Huey’s eyes lit up. “That would be perfect! A shared travelling experience, but not as perilous as treasure-hunting. And there are all sorts of activities that you could do together as a family.”

“Precisely. A family vacation.” Violet nodded. “My fathers and I went skiing in Dawson last winter, and it was most pleasant.”

Boyd shut off his eye-cameras for a moment and ran a few web searches in his head. Images of family vacations whizzed past, most including two adults and some number of children visiting exotic locations. It did look fun. “Yes. This does look like a good idea. I’ll have to figure out how to ask them.” He turned his eyes back on. “Thank you all for the advice. Shall we go play the video-games now?”

* * *

Mark idly scrolled through the map of Duckburg on his phone. He’d already taken Boyd to the aquarium, the zoo, the natural history museum, the art museum, the bowling alley, the trampoline park, the miniature golf course, and Funzo’s arcade. He was running out of ideas. There was always the movies, he thought, but… that wasn’t really special, was it? Boyd deserved something  _ special,  _ every time he came over here. Mark only got to see the kid once every two weeks! He had to make sure Boyd had fun!

Ok, sure. He had ulterior motives. He himself hadn’t really gotten to go to places like that much as a child. His mother wouldn’t take him because they were too low-brow. She’d make him go to the opera, the ballet, fine dining establishments… not that he hated those places, they were nice in their own way, but… they weren’t really for kids either. And then Dad just wanted to take him to watch live sports games. Or car-races. He’d managed once, just after his parents got divorced, to get his mother to take him to a carnival. They’d ridden the ferris wheel together, and then the merry-go-round, but Mark had made the mistake of asking for a snack before they got to the roller coaster. His mother scoffed at the cotton candy and funnel cakes and caramel apples and instead handed him a bag of carrot sticks from her purse. He’d complained, and she’d called him ungrateful and taken him home. 

He whirled a few fidget spinners on his desk and watched them for a few moments. If Mark was going to be a dad, he was going to be good at it. The best, even. And that meant identifying everything his own parents had done wrong, and then doing the opposite. Some of it was simple. Mark could easily avoid using homophobic slurs or enforcing restrictive diets. He could buy the kid anything that made him happy. But Mark felt that he was still missing something important. 

Maybe it was because he didn’t see Boyd often enough. He was more a babysitter than a parent. Of course, if he wanted to spend more time with the kid, then he and Gyro would probably have to deal with… well, everything. And that would be too hard. Yeah, he’d done some stuff he wasn’t really proud of, but… Mak couldn’t just walk to Gyro and apologize for every wrong thing he’d ever done! Could he? And even if he did, there was no guarantee Gyro would forgive him. And then Mark would just be embarrassing himself for no reason. 

He pushed his feet off the floor, setting his desk chair whirling. He hated that it had to be this complicated. He just wanted to have fun with his kid! It’s not like he could go out and do things with anyone else. No one other than Boyd actually liked him! Sure, lots of people pretended to, he was rich and famous, but he knew that most of it was fake. Intellectually, he knew that the affection Boyd displayed was fake too. The kid was a machine, not a person. But damn if it didn’t  _ feel _ like love. So what if technology gave him what humanity couldn’t? 

He walked over to the office mini-fridge and cracked open a can of cold-brew coffee, taking a long, slow sip before slumping back down.  He stared around the room, until his gaze landed on a poster on the wall. It was a map of all the Waddle offices in the world. That was it! He straightened up and set the coffee can on the desk. He never used much vacation time, but now he was a parent! He could take a week or two of family leave. And Waddle didn’t have any big product launches coming up- it wouldn’t hurt if he left the secondary executives in charge of the day-to-day. And then he and Boyd could go anywhere in the world! He whirled his desk chair again, but this time, it was with joy, rather than despondence. 

“You ever wanted to see the world?” Mark asked Boyd, when the android arrived at his apartment the following weekend. 

“Like the entire world? From space?” Boyd asked. 

Mark felt his throat tighten. A trip into space would be cool, but not exactly what he had in mind. If you’d asked him a year ago, he would have been interested, but since that alien invasion? Space looked a lot more hostile. “No, I was thinking a closer view. Seeing some new cities?” he stammered, hoping that Boyd wouldn’t insist. 

“Oh!” the boy nodded. “Like a vacation?”

“Yeah, a vacation!” Mark relaxed a little. “Anywhere you wanna go. Say the word and I’ll make it happen.” 

Boyd’s eyes suddenly glowed with a bright blue light, and then shifted so that a map of the world was projected onto Mark’s living room wall. A small pink star appeared over Duckburg. “I’ve been to Tokyolk and Macauw.” Boyd tapped a finger against his forehead and two more pink stars appeared on those cities as he spoke “Technically I’ve been through St. Canard, but I was in a shipping container, so I didn’t see much. If you could take a vacation, where would you go?”

This kid was so polite. It was endearing, almost to the point of being annoying. “Cape Suzette, maybe? Tropical beaches, fruity drinks, nice scenery. It’s just on the southern tip of the coast here, see?” Mark pointed and Boyd nodded. “If you wanted to, we could go through St. Canard on the way. Take a couple of flights, or use the Coast Railway, or possibly go by boat…”

“Boat?” Boyd asked. The map vanished, and was replaced by an odd, orangish glow in the robot’s eyes. Mark wasn’t sure what that meant.

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t own a private yacht or anything, though maybe I could...” He paused and bit his lower lip. He probably couldn’t afford a private yacht, actually. Sales hadn’t been great this year. 

“What about a cruise ship?” Boyd asked, the orange color brightening in his eyes. Sounded like the kid’s cooling fans had kicked on as well. Guess he was excited, or something. 

Anyway, a cruise was almost certainly within Mark’s budget, no rearrangement of funds needed. And if it made Boyd happy? “Oh yeah! You want a luxury cruise for two, you got it, kiddo.” He tapped a few keys and pulled up some ship descriptions and itineraries on his computer screen.

“Just the two of us?” Boyd asked. He sounded hesitant for some reason. 

“Um… that’s what I had in mind, yeah.” Mark turned away from the floorplan of the HMS Samuel Canardo and regarded the boy. Boyd’s hands were clasped behind his back. It was uncanny, the way he moved and behaved like a child. He nervously shuffled one foot against the floor. 

“Well… I was wondering if… maybe…” he hesitated.

“Anything you want, just say the word.” Mark reminded him. There was nothing the kid could ask for that Mark wasn’t prepared to give him. 

“Could we bring Gyro?” The words tumbled out of the little android’s beak and seemed to pile up in the air between them. 

Mark mentally amended his previous statement. Apparently, there  _ were  _ some requests he didn’t want to grant. “Why?” he finally asked. 

“Well, I thought it would be a kind gesture, to bring him along. His salary isn’t quite what yours is. But both of you work so hard! Don’t you think he deserves a break too?” 

This kid was too nice, Mark decided. Made it difficult to say no when the question was asked so politely. Mark sighed. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to bring another person with them. And there was still a small, secret part of him that dared to hope he and Gyro could connect again, especially if given time to relax together in a tropical paradise. But logically, he knew the idea was nonsense. Still, if it made Boyd happy… and the kid’s face was so earnest, so cheerful…

Mark sighed. “Yeah, all right. You can invite Gyro.”

He knew as soon as he said it that he was going to regret the decision, but Boyd’s smile in that moment made it all worthwhile.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm anticipating this fic will be somewhere between 8 and 10 chapters, depending on how exactly I arrange the scenes, so stay tuned for more!


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